


From Apples to Peaches

by TrashBrain (MilkBrain)



Category: Corruption of Champions, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Ahegao/Mind Break, Alternate Universe (literally!), Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - just for porn tbh, Corruption but FUN, Female Gyro Zeppeli, Height Differences, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Other, Outdoor Sex, POV First Person, Scent Kink, Trans Male Johnny Joestar, futa on trans guy, gentle cuddles after ahegao tho, just j/o with the homies its alright, legs work again oops, one-sided fetish haver uh oh lol, overwhelming horny feelings from johnnyboi, were building up stuff. more spicy stuff. mama mia. gonna get degenerate soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23678200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkBrain/pseuds/TrashBrain
Summary: So, maybe you tried showing off during a fight and now you're stuck in an alternate dimension in a new body.How humiliating for you. Thrown into one thing, and one thing alone:A Degenerate, debauchery filled hell. One that a common man would desire, but, you? No. No, no. Not at all...You're the prey, and everyone else is the predator out to get you. Your only chance of fighting back? Lets be blunt: Fight your hardest, or go down in more ways than one.
Relationships: Johnny Joestar/Gyro Zeppeli
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Good morning!

**Author's Note:**

> i literally just made this because of some stupid art i drew ages ago and wanted to expand on it. basically this is what happens when your brain is filled with dumb bitch juice and you're loaded up on your own hormones and have no idea how to handle the effects. less dysphoric but at what cost??? your sanity and mine. 
> 
> if you've seen my stuff around R34 or twitter i am so fucking sorry i'm bringing that trash here to you people.
> 
> (i'm not. please enjoy this if this is ur thing (v': )

Ugh...

A Ringing echoes through your ears, and a thick fog clouds your mind. It seems from the slight chill on your face, and the dim light coming from behind you that it’s just starting to become morning. You use your arms to push yourself onto your side, and pull your—

...

Legs. Up.

Legs up to your stomach.

Holy  **FUCK.**

You just moved your lower body, after you don’t even KNOW how long. You can feel every inch of your body. The blankets, the material of your clothes, your toes curling with curiosity and amazement as you push the tip of your foot against your leg! And...

It’s soft. Much less of an angular shape. Less muscle definition than you remember. You bend down a bit, hands running down your leg and feeling every soft, smooth inch of your newly restored limb’s flesh. The rejuvenated nerves interacting with the touch of your fingers feel more sensitive than ever, but...These legs. They feel a bit shorter, too. And even a bit, dare you say- Plush around the thighs. How the hell did this happen?! You slowly remove your hands, mind reeling as your sleep-laden eyes open into the slightest squint to at least see a familiar set of now-vacant blankets with a teddy bear neatly placed beside it. That gave you some solace...

Now, where were you before you woke up?

Oh. Shit.

Now you remember what happened.

  
  


All you could hear was the sound of your heart beating, and your heavy breaths that stung as they exited your tired body. Rage filled your heart to it’s very brim as your hands stopped shaking to take aim with your nails that spun like disks, ready to fire off like bullets against the man who stood simply inches away from you and your faltering partner. Jaw clenched and shoulders raised as this presidential bastard that kept monologuing alongside his even gaudier stand. 

The last thing you remember hearing him say before you felt yourself fall through a void, and your partner shouting your name?

“I’ll go ahead and send you somewhere where I won’t have to worry about you. How about that?”

And now you’re here. In what seems to be a new body. Is that the only thing thats new? Seems like it. Everything else feels the same. 

Frustrated- And now determined to find a way back- You inhale sharply through your nostrils and sit up. While the legs are an added benefit that would help you get around much easier, you’re definitely not pleased with the fact that you were thrown into another world.

  
  


Brushing the sleep out of your eyes, you extend your arms above your head, your now active lower limbs going in for their morning stretch in tandem with your upper ones. You hunch forwards, elbows resting on your thighs as you begin to devise a new plan. 

Simply find the president or some other means, and hopefully get thrown back to where you started, and to finish what you were doing. Right? That sounded good enough. You have enough rage and confusion to do that.

Before you can keep thinking- part of the tent opens, a voice calling out to you. 

“Yo! Johnny!” 

...The inflection is familiar, but the pitch and tone are all off. Sounding less like what you know, and a lot more like someone else entirely. Your eyes adjust to the light more and more, before the first thing you see in your face is...

Tits.

Huge ones.

Like together? The solidly the size of your head, or bigger. While you’re not really opposed to the idea of such, considering a small portion of your past endeavours involved the attention of women, having them suddenly thrust upon you was a bit much, especially at this size. Your eyes peer up, however, as you notice a feminine featured face adorned with a layer of makeup. Upon a slight, further analysis, you squint while trying to take everything in. Who in the goddamn was this woman? And why did she seem so familiar? And why did she wear obviously too much glossy green lipstick? 

“You there? Come on, don’t act like I’m some stranger to you! It’s me, Gyra!”

Oh.

_ Oh good lord.  _

It seems more than just yourself has changed.

Before you can protest to any contact from this woman who seems to be some sort of variant of your previous racing partner and best friend- She scoops you up from under your armpits like some little cat with a surprising amount of strength. Are you seriously that small?!   
  
It appears you are, as your legs dangle a little bit off the ground as she holds you up, giving you a gentle shake. “It’s time to get up! We have a race to win!” She beams at you, the face-paint along her lower jaw in the shape of green hearts making itself more obvious in the early morning light as your eyes adjust. You can’t help but notice the slightly sweet, girlish scent wafting off of her either. Perfume? 

Either way, whatever the hell she’s wearing seems to be some...Amalgamation of a tube top, shorts, heeled boots all combined with the original outfit you knew from your original world. To say the least- Revealing and probably inconvenient. At least the belt is still there, holstering the familiar steel balls you’re used to seeing.

Regardless of this? You wiggle about. Kicking your new legs as you still become used to the life inside of them. Despite your physical protests against this woman, she tightens her grip, her brow furrowing. You open your mouth to speak, telling her that you would rather like to be placed back down or somewhere else! One thing you take solace in is that your voice sounds about the same with no actual major changes. Maybe a bit higher and softer, but you can just put it deeper with a little bit of effort. It’ll sound just the same. “Jeez, alright!” And with that, you’re gently placed down on your own two feet. You wobble slightly, the feeling of standing quite honestly being a miracle in itself, but you didn’t really factor in that you might need to memorize walking again just a little bit. 

You gaze up a fair bit, the height difference between you and Gyra being a solid 12 inches. Thankfully from where you’re standing- You can see her face. Any closer and the entire view would just be what you usually refer to as ‘underboob.’ 

“There you go. All up and ready to go!” She pats your shoulder firmly, before tapping a finger against the tip of your nose. You can’t exactly be mad at someone wanting you to not sleep in when you’re on an apparent deadline, of all things. From what you can tell from the texture of the ground under your tent, and the cooler air despite the sun rising more into the sky is that you’re somewhere away from California where you originally started this whole racing debacle. Utah? Maybe. You’d probably just have to swallow your pride and ask before any obvious signs came up. Brushing your body off, your fingers get to feel your (albeit covered) form. Your legs match everything else, it seems. Not only have you lost a fair amount of height, you’ve also somehow managed to put on weight and change body shape. Again? Less angular. Soft around the edges. And from what you can tell, wider hips. Looking down, your current garb is a loose tank top and loose shorts that are tied at the top. In this better light you’ve adjusted to, you can definitely tell that your chest is altered too! Small-ish breasts, but wouldn’t count as anything as ‘medium’ and could never pass for anything ‘big’ by your own standards. The type where if a breeze blew up into your shirt from the bottom- Nobody could see them. Below that is a slightly pudgy, soft stomach. You squeeze the sides tentatively, a bit upset that your metabolism lags behind in comparison to your old one.

You can only hope you have the same clothes from your last body, and that they fit the same comfortable way you’re used to. Grunting, and slowly coming to the acceptance you’re stuck like this- You sigh, making your way over to your travel bag with a great deal of stumbling and stops as you take your (not exactly) first steps in this world. Time to get dressed...


	2. Self Care Session

You come to a welcome sitting position, your fingers unzipping the bag with a familiar ease. You suppose the comforts of home haven’t quite been left behind just yet as the sight of white and blue fabrics come into your vision.

Ah, yes. Now these, THESE are your clothes! Just as you remember them, just from the sight as you reach in to pull out your short-sleeved hooded jacket. In a polite, swift motion- Gyra exits the tent to give you at least a bit of privacy to change clothes. You give a slight smile as the thing unrolls from it’s folded state…

Only for it to stop short. Your brows furrow as you peer closer at the seams. At the bottom of the (now cropped) top, you notice a clear hem line. You come to the realization that it was made to be like this! Taking a look inside to make sure this thing somehow isn’t see-through as well to add onto your...Abject disdain, you notice a second, tighter layer. A Bit of stretchy material made to cling to the skin. Now with a slight spark of curiosity- You slip away your upper sleepwear, flesh exposed to the cool morning air. You can’t help but notice the status of your chest, either. Now that size was established? The skin is how you remember it, but, just a bit smoother. You have small, pink nipples that stiffened up just slightly. The outer circle of pink flesh fades into your skin smoothly, almost blending. 

If you were still in your old body, you probably would’ve called these cute or some variation of the term. But upon remembering your somewhat clunky and almost halfway-ended experiences in life, you briefly let a puff of air out from your nostrils to signify a sort of sigh. 

Pulling on your ‘new’ clothes, you notice a slight squeeze around the chest area while your head slips through the neck collar. Your arms easily slide through the sleeves and out back into the air, and when your head is out of the fabric, you look down. Your chest is now...Flat. Bound by the secondary layer built into the crop-top! You’d have to get used to it, but you’re honestly just thankful you’re not being choked out by something that seems so tight around you.

Part of your slightly pudgy stomach is exposed, in which you can’t help but still feel embarrassed about. Maybe people felt differently about such, wherever you were. You expect about the same from your bottom half of clothing, pulling it from the same luggage as you’re met with a view of high-waisted shorts. Might be a little uncomfortable between your legs after a bit, but practicality of clothing didn’t seem much like an issue, considering what you’ve seen so far.

Putting the shorts aside, you dig about for underwear inside your bag. Simple things. A Bit stretchy. But nothing fancy. You stretch the elastic band between your fingers before slipping it onto your wrist in order to wiggle your sleeping shorts off. These seem to have enough space for your- …

You should’ve seen this coming.

You really should’ve.

Staring down at your now exposed lower half, you don’t really...Have anything you did when you were back home. Are you disappointed? Angry? You don’t even know. Over all of that just seems to be a sense of confusion thats quickly replaced with- Oddly enough- A Sense of burning curiosity. Reaching down, you get a sort of warm flow down your spine, leaning back as you support yourself on your free arm’s elbow. You’re lighter than you expected. 

A Tentative pair of digits feel down your stomach, brain reeling as your fingertips meet a soft, warm place. You breathe deeply, exhaling with a shudder. Something in the back of your head tells you how familiar this feels, allowing you to lay back and relax somewhat. With your back against the tangled pile of pillows and blankets where your sleeping arrangements were, you adjust your hips just slightly. Slipping your hands away from your body for just a second- And hoping you’ll be forgiven for this if anyone finds out- You reach for a hand mirror from Gyra’s own space. A Somewhat heavy floral thing made of brass and not as well taken care of as you’d expect on the aesthetic end. 

The gears turning in your brain probably assumed this would be a genius idea somewhere in there as you get yourself comfortable. You had an hour or more, right? Your partner would just assume you’d be sleeping in. 

You move the mirror into the middle between your thighs, your senses and suspicions becoming all too correct. You have, well…There’s no beating around the bush here- You’re equipped with, for lack of a better term, an honestly sort of...Cute cunt. At least in your opinion. Your face feels hot, and your body even hotter, if that’s anything to go off of.

To be honest, you need to spread the soft, bare skin of your mound open to see anything relevant. Lightly pressing your teeth down onto your bottom lip. More uncontrolled shuddering, of course. If this was any other time in closed quarters, you’d surely be caught by now from all your nervous, aroused shuffling about. With your fingers, you succeed in your task, your internal folds spreading with a gentle ‘shlp’ sound. Small, pink and puffy things, they were. Not much in the way of protecting anything like your small-ish, delicate looking hole. Maybe a bit uneven on one side. Oh, well, nobody is perfect. You exhale, fingers moving up. Dear  _ fuck _ , does this feel great. Maybe getting used to your body like this is MUCH better than you could’ve ever expected. Your fingers curl, giving yourself more of a view of your new set in the mirror. Between your index and middle digits is your clit, slipping out from it’s hood due to the pressure against it’s sides. You wince, the sensitive tip of your bud being exposed to the air as it gently throbs along with your internal walls. A Pleasant feeling. To say otherwise would be to outright lie to yourself.

It has about the same diameter as your fingertip, sticking out a little bit more than you’d expect. To use fingers again, you’d say it’s down to the first joint of your index finger. Maybe three-fourths of an inch. Either way, using your middle finger to gently poke at it is...Good. Really good, actually. Before you decide to ‘get to work’, though, you take a brief moment to observe your asshole. It’s a sort of soft, donut-like thing. Maybe a little bit much. But, you suppose it fits with the ‘soft’ aesthetics you have going on.

Though, all this examination is ramping you up. The fact your sensitivity is back, and the fact you can feel everything? Fuck it. Before you even skip off to your next thought, your index and middle finger are already grinding away your clit. A Completely different set of pleasure wracking up through your hips, stomach, and all the way into your brain. Small circles, but, as your breath ramps up as well as your hips up into the air, you find yourself rubbing away faster. It’s an awkward position, to say the least, but the fact that you’re legitimately getting off to yourself is sort of...Well, something you wouldn’t have expected.

But staring in the mirror from your angle? You manage to actually stop for a second, fingers jolting back down to spread yourself open again to jam your fingers into the now wet and somewhat sticky fuckhole you have. It’s a bit intimidating, considering how tight and narrow it looks just from observing in the mirror, but without much thought you tentatively slip your middle finger inside while using the logic that it’ll help feel for any sensitive spots. There’s a soft yet incredibly indecent sound as you do so, warmth enveloping the flesh of your digit as your stir it about within you. Your inner walls have a gentle, smooth feel to them. Your brain snaps to the idea of ‘unused goods’ due to whatever you have internalized in your mind from your past, but…

God, fucking hell. You’re not pulling out for a while. You probably wouldn’t think about dicks, but...Maybe  _ something _ pounding in and out of here wouldn’t be so bad. It’s fine thinking it, rather than doing it, right? Nobody will know if you’re a man thinking about dicks if you don’t say anything. Yeah. That’s the logic. Right there. 

You’re aimlessly enjoying yourself, going as far as to slide your index finger in while adjusting the position of your hand to more accurately please yourself with inwards and outwards strokes that stretch you out just a tiny bit. You couldn’t quite give a shit if this was a bit loud, now. This was  _ your _ time. You didn’t owe anyone anything right now. Was self-care going to be thinking about getting pinned down and ravaged while fingering yourself? Most likely. If it felt this good you should do it more often.

You can feel yourself sweat, cunt clenching around your fingers as your panting turns to aggressive, nasal huffs as you proceed faster and harder. Everything is building up at once! Are you seriously going to peak here?! You honestly hope you do! You’re not paying too much attention to the world around you, and more attention to the fact that you’ve somehow managed to get your hips up into the air, and your other, much more free arm covering your eyes with your mouth agape as you return to breathing through your mouth hurriedly and quickly. You’re definitely enjoying yourself more than you should.

  
  


…

Whiiiiich makes itself obvious when you have to stop since someone grabbed at your wrist on the inwards push. In a combination of annoyance, shock, and humiliation as you lift away your arm from your eyes, you’re staring right over at Gyra. Her brow furrowed and lips pressed together in a concerned expression before she speaks to you.

“J...Johnny? Shit. If I knew this was going on I--”   
  
You interrupt, your voice cracking out a tiny bit from your dry throat.    
  
“I’m sorry, alright?! I Know you can’t knock, but I’m trying to do something, here!”   
  
That grip around your wrist becomes a bit tighter. Worryingly so. She doesn’t look angry now, no. But, rather gives you a smile. The same sort of dumb, smug aura that used to come from Gyro that you’d used to see during any other time you’d get embarassed. 

“...I Would’ve helped you a while ago. Or even last night!”   
  
And before you knew it- Your hands were over your head, the larger woman gripping and pinning your wrists to the ground with her hand, and the other moving down to prod her fingers into you as you loudly gasp in a shrill tone. W...Was this shit usually supposed to be louder when someone else did it?! Because she’s already going  _ incredibly  _ fast with about three of her fingers. Your tightness forces Gyra’s middle finger to slip under her index and ring finger as she leans down, her face right next to yours, eyes looking into hers as she seems to enjoy your expression of both pleasure, anger and humiliation as you slowly melt into the former. 

...You’re seriously getting to enjoying this, really?! 

"Jeez! You're usually a lot calmer when I do this! It's been a while though, hasn't it? You've tightened up a lot, too." You can very much TELL how much she's loving all of this. D...Did this version of you do this kind of thing all the time?! Is that what she was implying?! You feel...Dirty, odd. But maybe it's just with her, right? Meanwhile, you're getting your flushed face peppered with pastel-green lipstick stains. She's being so affectionate during all of this, which is just making you even more a flustered mess.

...But it's just you and her out here. Maybe some rough yet sweet loving would do you some good.


End file.
